


Red Horned

by VisceralComa



Series: Fuck the Maker [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 09:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisceralComa/pseuds/VisceralComa
Summary: A dark future scene of Maker Have Mercy





	Red Horned

The Iron Bull caught her eye across the courtyard as they brought Corypheus's general in chains to the prison. He was silent, but you could feel the waves of red lyrium off him. Why hadn't they removed his armor beforehand?

She'd been pale, shaking, and lost in her memories. He knew what to look for, but it wasn't hard. Even Kost, ever oblivious, noticed and went to pull her aside. She wouldn't let him. Instead she took off toward her room. He would have went after her, but he had a job to do.

Interrogate their new prisoner.

Not that he'd get anything from Samson. He had no memories of what he did to Mercy. Because they never happened for him. But they did for Mercy.

A lifetime she'd experienced in that future. One single year relived dozens of different ways. She only revealed a few of them. The only people that even knew was The Iron Bull, Kost and Dorian. But The Iron Bull hadn't seen what they had. He only had tales and brief glimpses of what she's shared. It'd been Kost who'd rushed back to Haven to discover her aged ten years and yet show no physical sign save for the brilliant white streaks in her hair. No, the aging was in her eyes, her glances. Sometimes they were young again, other times... they darkened and fogged over. Lost in a memory.

"What day is it?" She'd ask. "Year? What age is it?"

He remembered those days right after Seheron, before the re-educators fixed it.

Then she'd ask things like "How long has the Herald been dead?" or "Has Corypheus invaded yet? He's coming you know. To Skyhold. We won't survive without Kost."

All questions would cease when Kost was called. Her shoulders slumping and a low whispered reverent, "He did it. He finally did it," before she'd be quiet for the rest of the day.

She didn't come down for supper but resurfaced at dinner the next day. She sat beside him and slid a key to her chambers besides his bowl.

"Make sure you eat your fill." He mumbled before smirking. "Look who made it out tonight. Varric you owe me three sovereigns." Bull chuckled across the table.

"Now now Tiny, first we have to see her eat."

"Mercy." Kost stopped right at their table. Worry, concern. He was too soft at times, especially with Mercy. "Are you-"

Mercy perked when Kost came up. Her smile wide. It even reached her eyes.

Bull didn't buy it. He leant back and eyed her backside. He wasn't checking her out.

A thin, barely visible line of magical seam traced over her spine. You had to know what to look for to see it. And Bull was all too familiar with it.

Later, he climbed the tower to her quarters and slipped in. She was standing by the balcony. Her chambers were two floors below Kost's allowing a more intimate view of the gardens but still high up enough for privacy if she wanted to fuck on the balcony.

"Mind closing those, not exactly spring this far up." He joked as he crossed the room to her wardrobe. His fingers paused when he noticed the leather belt was missing. "Mercy?" He turned and found her arm was purple and wrapped tight around it was the belt. "Vashedan. Parshara! Give that to me."

"Alright." She smiled and removed the belt.

"And drop that glamour." He barked. He stared until she did. Pale sallow skin, dark webbed bags beneath her lids, mussed and tangled hair. There were bloodied streaks along her neck, where she'd clawed herself.  Their consistent presence meant she was intentionally stopping her natural healing.  He sighed. "You need a bath." 

"I'd rather just get to the nice part of the evening." She rolled her shoulders.

"Do you even have the energy-" He bit his tongue when she glared. Of course she did. Endless energy to spare, so long as other people and life was around.  "I can't make tonight enjoyable unless you tell me something." 

That was the deal. Initially. She worked through it and she'd get laid. It became something more when she asked him to be bound. He hadn't thought she could do it, but she proved him otherwise. It was mutual. 

"Do you know which hand you killed the most people with? Do you know which hand caused the most suffering?" 

_I pulled at the grey and black horns. They wouldn't budge. Wouldn't crack or splinter. I almost wanted to grab a bonesaw to hack them off, but I wanted it to hurt. Hurt so much he tried to scream. But he couldn't. Not with his tongue cut and lips sewn shut._

_"Bas." I sneered as he glowered. He was still himself. I only wished I had Qamek._

_"Why don't you just use magic, darlin?" Samson came up to me. Arms wrapped around my hips as he pulled me back._

_"Doesn't feel quite as satisfying with my level of precision now. It's surgical if I do it like that. No, I want them to be jagged. Deformed." I smiled._

_"Then use what our master taught you, you aren't yet as proficient in it."_

_"Hmm...you may have a point."  I reached out with the taint coursing through my veins.  I used the call to surge the red lyrium forward in his veins, infecting his bones until -_

_His eyes bulged and his muffled screams were pleasing as he threw himself back. His body contorted around his chains. Unable to find purchase or relief as a shard of red lyrium cracked through his horns._

_"Look at the ox go."_

Bull sat up in bed, panting and sweat covered. He'd jostled the bed, and looked at Mercy beside him. She slept peacefully, content, and calm. Unlike him. Plagued by  _her_ memories. 

**Author's Note:**

> I started this...with the idea of something fluffy. But it quickly... turned bad.


End file.
